


The World Changes, We Do Not

by kaiserincapulet



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház), Vampire: The Masquerade
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6688015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiserincapulet/pseuds/kaiserincapulet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tybalt had heard the stories of vampires who wandered alone for eternity, and sometimes wished to be one of them. Instead, he found himself running into the same maddeningly beautiful Malkavian, no matter how hard he tried to stay away. (Based on Gérard Presgurvic's Romeo et Juliette and its Hungarian adaptation, Rómeó és Júlia, but mostly Shakespeare-compatible. Crossover with Vampire: The Masquerade)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Verona

Even in his previous life, Tybalt had been no stranger to rumors and whispers. When he first experienced the terrible fits of the falling sickness, they had said he was cursed, and maybe the whole family along with him. When he had simply comforted his aunt after his father’s death, they had added his name to the list of men who passed in and out of her bed who weren’t her husband. When he had been the most protective and overbearing of all the Capulets during Juliet’s first few Nights, they had shaken their heads in pity for the boy who pined after his little cousin, with a few prayers for his sinful soul along the way.

So it was no surprise when the whispers came of a few rich and powerful Kindred trying to take control. When Tybalt heard the idea, he scoffed. Kindred were uncontrollable, he always said, their existences depending on their ability to strike fear into the hearts of Kine. He saw no reason for any of it to change.

One thing that did surprise him was when he found himself approached by Rosaline, during an hour where no one else of consequence would be home. There was no way this could mean anything good.

“So you’ve decided, then?”

Rosaline was far too used to him for shock, but he still saw her trying to steel herself. “Yes. I have decided I care none for this world of shadows and darkness, and-”

“But still you confine yourself to them, only with a different set of walls?”

“Tybalt, you know well my reservations for this life.”

“And I suppose you think they’ll just close their eyes to what they know of us?”

Rosaline sighed. “I have not yet been Embraced, and you know it.”

Tybalt did not need a reminder, not when he had a constant one in the air whenever she was around.

But it was not what he had meant to say. “Still, they know our name.”

“I’ll do whatever I must if it means-” the breath to continue was lost when Tybalt pulled her into a hug that was tight enough to remind her of his nature.

“Then I won’t hold you back any longer,” he said in a deceptively even tone.

She almost thought she should be afraid, but she reminded herself that this was Tybalt. He would never do anything to hurt her.

Tybalt did not care if his grip caused pain. This way, he could fool himself into thinking he could stop this, keep Rosaline here where she could be safe instead of sending her out into the dangerous world alone.

“Tybalt,” she whispered, a bit of desperation in her voice.

He hesitated, but eventually let her go.

When he awoke the next night, he did not need to search for he knew exactly what he would find. Rosaline was gone.

* * *

Most of the Kindred in Verona already knew each other, so Tybalt recognized the name of the man who wanted to lead their community as soon as he heard it: Bartolomeo Escalus. Tybalt knew he had every reason to be confident, as he was a wealthy, well-liked Ventrue, but then so was his own uncle. No one was guaranteed anything, especially not in Verona.

The most likely outcome, then, was leaving it to chance. But games of chance were dangerous in their world, and Tybalt hoped the other Escalus family members would be more careful.

Of course, he knew it was a lost cause as soon as he saw the red hair which shone like the fire that illuminated it. Mercutio Escalus had no regard for limitations, not when he could cast them aside with some moronic pun about wanting to taste everything life had to offer. Such was the way of the Malkavian.

Now, the Mercutio before him was an unexpectedly sober one. Curiosity piqued, Tybalt kept to the shadows, away from the torchlight, as he watched him.

“Mercutio?”

As soon as Tybalt heard the voice, he understood. It was easy to forget, but he remembered now that Mercutio had a brother.

Not that he would have guessed it from the bewilderment on Mercutio’s face as Valentine threw his arms around him in a hug that was unexpected even for Tybalt.

“We were looking everywhere for you! Where did you go?”

Mercutio’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

Valentine’s smile fell. “Hey, are you alright?”

When Tybalt looked back to Mercutio’s face, he saw a familiar red glow in his eyes. He had never seriously considered the idea of using his disciplines on a Kine, but Mercutio obviously lacked the same boundaries. Tybalt’s eyes returned to Valentine, not wanting to be accidentally Dominated.

“You are mistaken. I know thee not, sir,” Mercutio said firmly, though not enough to hide the panic that sharpened his tone.

Valentine nodded blankly. “Right. Sorry.”

Even without the tears of blood that fell as Mercutio watched Valentine leave, the anguish on his face would still have told Tybalt all he needed to know.

The all-too-rare display of emotion was cut short when he saw Tybalt, replacing it with one of his famous smiles, dazzling but also full of teeth bared in warning. They regarded each other silently for a moment, requiring no words to know what the other was thinking.

_Malkavian,_ said Tybalt’s glare.

_Brujah,_ said the spark of mischief that never left Mercutio’s eyes.

“Answer me this, sweet prince of cats: why restrict yourself to the alleys when you can go out and play?”

Tybalt shook his head. “You clearly know nothing of cats. I’m here for food, not games.”

Mercutio shrugged. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Tybalt knew Mercutio enough to hear the bitterness lurking underneath his forced pleasantries.

“Haven’t you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat?”

Tybalt glared at him, through with playing games. “You forget my claws.”

“I forget nothing. Especially when it comes to you.”

Tybalt knew exactly what he was insinuating, and wanted no part of it. At least, not in public.

He settled for a sigh as his only response. “The prince of cats bids you farewell.”

He wondered how many more Nights they would have to spend putting up with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was certainly a thing I wrote, wasn't it?
> 
> Those of you who know me from Tumblr might remember that I've been talking about this fic since at least December, but a mix of writer's block and laziness has caused it to be put off until now. I tried to keep the VtM terminology at a minimum, so hopefully that made this easier to understand if you're not familiar with it.
> 
> The title is a line from Interview With the Vampire, because leave it to my hack self to go with the obvious choice.


	2. Paris

As much as the rest of the Kindred made fun of Kine for their ability to destroy themselves, any resident of Verona would gladly say that Kindred were no better. Contrary to Tybalt’s predictions, the Anarch revolts had not been able to put down the idea of a government. Instead, the Camarilla had moved in and used the post-war environment to establish their hold on Kindred society.

Tybalt had never been fond of the other Escalus nephew, or Ventrue in general, but his namesake city was proving to be more fascinating than he had expected. The Kine of Paris were showing that they could spill blood just as well as anyone, and Kindred had taken notice. It was all too natural, then, for Tybalt to find himself joining the migrating crowds.

Of course, he was a fool to think he could ever find a place where he would be free of Camarilla regulations, and he was swiftly introduced to their most interesting of innovations. The women who those among the Kindred who thought themselves clever referred to as “Blood Dolls” had probably sounded like a good idea at the time, but Tybalt did not see the use of them. After all, it was already common knowledge that most Kindred did not kill as they fed, so willing donors seemed like more of an excess than anything else.

Still, he could not deny that they had their advantages. He loved listening to them as they felt the high given to them by his bite.

“What’s your name?”

He almost thought he had misheard the slurred voice of the girl seated on his lap. “Pardon?”

“Your name. Mine is Costanza.”

He hesitated, not sure if he should find her openness welcoming or off-putting. She already knew too much, so anything more above “need-to-know” status was a gamble.

“Do you not speak French, monsieur?”

“My name is Tybalt.” 

His words came out more threatening than expected, and he saw her recoil. He wondered if he had destroyed the glamour of vampires for her, reminding her that he could be a monster if he wanted to..

To his surprise, he saw her steeling herself. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Tybalt.”

Tybalt smiled, “If a lady is brave enough to face me after being fed on, then that makes the pleasure mine.”

Costanza appeared to be relaxed by his smile. “Is it enough of a pleasure that you would be willing to accompany me home?”

Tybalt’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Madame, do you know that my kind is not capable of having-”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Her cheeks flushed red. “It’s just,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, though still loud enough for all the other Kindred to hear, “Paris is a dangerous place for a lady alone at night.”

Tybalt still felt like she was propositioning him, but he knew he could not lose anything by revealing himself to someone whose line of work depended upon knowing what he was. And she didn’t seem to have any sort of malicious intent.

He sighed. “Fine, I’ll take you home. But nothing beyond that-”

“Of course.”

“-and no tricks.”

Not that he believed any human could pull any tricks on him, but caution was almost second nature to any Kindred who had lived in Verona. Especially when it came to people working for the Camarilla.

“Alright then.” He sighed and extended a hand.

* * *

Tybalt had almost feared that spending most of his time among other Kindred would make him lose his appreciation for Kine, but Costanza proved surprisingly entertaining. Every Kine had one of the same few reactions to learning someone was a Kindred, and he wondered if she would end up as one of the ones who fell in love with a Kindred. Of course, it would never work out if he were the one she chose. Even if he were still capable of love, there was only one person who had ever come close to claiming his heart.

As he was watching Costanza closing the door to her home, he heard laughter ring out. It was a sound he had heard enough times that he would recognize it anywhere, and it paralyzed him like a stake.

“Tybalt!”

If recognizing the voice was not enough to determine who it was, then seeing Mercutio materialize in front of him was enough to confirm his suspicions. Tybalt was never in a mood to deal with Malkavians, but he especially did not want to deal with one using Obfuscate to its full, annoying potential.

“So, what strings pull you?”

“What the fuck-why do you need to know?” Tybalt liked to think he had gotten better at deciphering Malkavian language, but it still got on just as many of his nerves.

Mercutio shrugged, “It was only a question.”

Tybalt sighed, “I’m here for the same reason all the rest of us are. Now, what’s your story, besides testing my patience?”

“How does one test the water of a desert?”

“Being named ‘Mercutio’ is a good place to start.”

“I merely worried because I know that when you let cats outside, they tend to get lost.” He brushed aside the strands of hair that had fallen in front of Tybalt’s face.

“You’re about to lose your arm if you don’t stop,” Tybalt growled.

Mercutio rolled his eyes but withdrew his hand. “Peace, my sweet prince. I am no longer here.”

When Tybalt found himself once again staring at the opposite wall of the alley, he knew it was time to consider giving up, despite his Brujah blood causing him to protest. He would not see Mercutio again unless he wanted to be seen, and there was no telling how long that would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess now I should start explaining myself. The concept for this story was to make an anthology-type thing about Tybalt and Mercutio meeting in different places and time periods, while also throwing in some of my OCs and slight background information about the state of Verona's Kindred (like, just enough to establish the time period).
> 
> Speaking of which, I guess I should define some terms as well. The "Camarilla" is the governing body of vampires, "Anarchs" are vampires who reject the Camarilla and their laws, and the "Anarch revolts" are wars between these two groups that took place around the time the Camarilla first formed. "Obfusicate" is another Malkavian discipline, and it's basically the power of invisibility. I would define "Blood Dolls", but I already did that in the story (for once).
> 
> Costanza is the first of the aforementioned OCs I've introduced. She's based on the red-haired Capulet dancer from the 2001 French production who was in unrequited love with Tybalt, played by Costanza Garrone (I'm using the dancers' names if I know them, just to make it easy on myself).


End file.
